Extraordinary Rendition
by PsandQs
Summary: Written before season 10 aired, so some of the new characters' personalities differs from canon. A former colleague is snatched from his home, leaving Harry and his team to try and piece together what is going on. And in the midst of it all Harry and Ruth must find a way to work together again after the Albany affair.
1. Chapter 1

_Monday 2 May 2011_

_Article in The Guardian:_  
'Osama bin Laden, the criminal mastermind behind al-Qaida and the world's most sought-after terrorist since the attacks of 11 September 2001, has been killed by a US operation, President Barack Obama has announced.'

_4 May 2011_

_Article in The Guardian:_  
'The United States is determined to capitalise on the death of Osama bin Laden and destroy al-Qaida, the White House chief of counter-terrorism, John Brennan, said. Brennan said the administration was aiming to "pummel the rest of al-Qaida" after US intelligence officers discovered unpublished statements produced by Bin Laden amid "a treasure trove" of computer hard drives, CDs, DVDs and papers seized from his safe house in Pakistan. They believe they may have also found communications between senior al-Qaida lieutenants and Bin Laden which could reveal information about potential targets and strategic guidance on the direction of the terror organisation, as well as the whereabouts of its operatives.'

- 0 -

_Sunday 5 June 2011  
London suburb_

The black van coasted to a stop twenty metres down the street from the house. It was late, close to midnight, but dim light was visible behind the curtains of one of the downstairs rooms. The team leader flicked on the thermal scanner, and could identify two persons inside. One was in an upstairs bedroom, lying in bed, whilst the other was seated in the downstairs living room. He keyed his mike and spoke quietly into it.  
"Target is in downstairs living room. We are go. All units deploy to positions."  
The van's doors swung open and men clad in dark combat gear jumped out and quietly ran to the house, surrounding it. One by one the units reported in, confirming that they were in position. As soon as he received the last unit's confirmation, he reached again for his mike.  
"Take him," he stated firmly.

Inside the house, a man was sitting in a comfortable armchair, listening to classical music. On his lap lay a book, but he wasn't reading. Instead he was focussing on the soothing, beautiful music, enjoying the calmness of the evening. That was brutally shattered when the front and back doors were smashed in simultaneously, and men clad in black rushed in and surrounded him.  
"On your knees!" the first one that got to him yelled, pointing a very large gun menacingly in his direction. The man didn't move, shocked into immobility, and merely stared at them in confusion. Hands grabbed him and dragged him from the chair before forcing him to his knees.  
"Confirm identity," the team leader requested on the comms.  
One of the men shone a flashlight into the astonished face of the man, making him blink.  
"It's him," a voice behind the light confirmed.  
The next moment the light was cut off as a black hood was roughly yanked over his head, and within seconds he was dragged out of the house and into the back of the van. It disappeared into the night as quietly as it had arrived.

Back in the house, the woman upstairs lay in bed, wondering what had woken her. She listened, but could hear nothing out of the ordinary. Only the music her son was listening to downstairs. Then, as one of her curtains billowed in the breeze, she heard it again. The back door was banging in the wind. Why on earth would he go outside this time of night? She waited a few minutes, but the banging continued. A feeling of unease settled over her, and she got out of bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. Carefully she made her way downstairs, and froze at the sight of the busted front door. She knew then that something was terribly wrong. A frantic search of the house confirmed that her son was gone. She did the only thing she could think of. She called the police.

- 0 -

Her skin was soft under his hands, so soft. He was mesmerised by it as he ran his hands up her bare back, before trailing them downwards again. They came to a rest on the small of her back as he lifted his head and sought out her mouth with his. _This _was heaven, he decided. As he gently parted her lips with his tongue, his hands started moving again, caressing over her-

The shrill ringing of his mobile yanked him violently out of the dream. He looked around him, completely disoriented by the fact that he was alone in the bed. Reality seeped in as the mobile continued to ring; she was not there. She'd never been there. With a sigh, he heaved himself upright and reached for the mobile.  
"Yes," he muttered shortly.  
"Sir Harry Pearce?" a voice asked.  
"Yes." His own now held a note of irritation.  
"This is the police. We've had a report of a disturbance at one of the addresses on your list."  
Harry was instantly fully alert, all irritation at the rude awakening forgotten. "Whose?"  
There was a rustle of paper as the policeman consulted the list before him. "A Malcolm Wynn-Jones."  
"Thank you." With his heart beating fast, Harry threw on some clothes and was out of the door within five minutes.

- 0 -

Two police cars were parked in front of Malcolm's house when Harry arrived. He parked on the opposite side of the street and got out, standing for a moment to observe the scene before him. Even from where he was he could see that the door had been kicked in, and he felt a surge of anger. After a final scan of the surroundings he crossed the street and approached the policeman stationed at the door. He flashed his ID at him and was waved inside.

It always surprised him how little damage professional snatch teams did when entering a house. Apart from the smashed door locks, everything else was undisturbed. He entered the sitting room to find a distraught Mrs Wynn-Jones seated on the couch, with a sympathetic policeman standing over her. Harry nodded at him when he looked up, and moved over to sit carefully next to Malcolm's mother. She turned teary eyes towards him, and Harry smiled as reassuringly as he could.  
"My name is Harry Pearce. I'm a former colleague of Malcolm's. Are you all right?"  
Amelia looked at the man and felt instinctively reassured. His voice was gentle and soothing, and he exuded calmness and authority. She knew what her son had done for a living all those years, so was aware that the man seated next to her must work for MI5.

"What happened to my Malcolm?" she asked, her voice shaking.  
"I don't know," Harry responded regretfully. "But I promise you I will find out. I won't rest until we know he's safe."  
He squeezed her hand to reiterate his commitment to the pledge he'd made, and she gave him a grateful smile.  
"Thank you. Malcolm is lucky to have such loyal friends."  
Harry swallowed and turned his head away, not wishing her to see his anguish. All the times that Malcolm had been a good friend to him came to mind, and he vowed silently to pursue with vengeance whoever had taken him.  
Clearing his throat, he asked gently, "Is there someone you can stay with until this is all sorted out?"  
She nodded. "Betty next door said I could stay with her."  
"Good." Harry fished in his coat pocket and produced a small card. "This is my personal number. You are welcome to call me at any time. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."  
He pressed the card into her hand, and with a few more words of support, he left her to the care of the policeman.

Outside on the pavement he stopped and looked up and down the street thoughtfully. The senior investigator at the scene joined him.  
"Sir Harry."  
They shook hands.  
"Nasty business," the policeman stated. "Any idea who could've done it?"  
Harry shook his head. "None. He was retired, so there is nothing recent that could be tied into it. Did anyone see anything?"  
"No. They were all asleep, unfortunately. It's mostly older people that live in this neighbourhood, so no late night revellers returning and accidentally witnessing something."  
The spook took a final look around, pushing down his frustration at the lack of information. "Right. Let me know if you find anything."

Harry got back into his car and sat thinking for a minute. MI5 had a unit that investigated any criminal activity against members of the organisation. By rights he should inform them and hand the case over, but... It was Malcolm. Through the many years they had worked together, he had grown fond of the techie, and regarded him as a genuine friend. Besides, this had been a professional job, and he had the very uncomfortable feeling that there was something much more sinister at play than a mere criminal act. He made up his mind, and reached for his mobile to Red Flash his team.

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

_Monday 6 June 2011  
London, just after midnight_

As Harry started the car and drove off, he made another call. Ruth's sleepy voice answered after a few rings.  
"Hi, it's me. I've just Red Flashed the team. I'm going to be driving past your flat, so I'll pick you up."  
"No, I can-"  
He cut off her protestation. "I'll be there in ten minutes," he said, and disconnected before she could argue.

His thoughts stayed with her as he drove to her flat. For the last couple of months he had avoided situations where he would be alone with her as far as humanly possible. His heart was still fragile after she had rejected his marriage proposal, and what with the events surrounding the Albany fiasco and her reaction to what he'd done, his subsequent suspension and the Inquiry, they had never had time to talk about things properly. Not that they were inclined to do so, in any case, he mused. Both of them were spectacularly bad at talking about their feelings, and since his return to the office about a month ago, they had both preferred to pretend that all was normal. They simply ignored the huge elephant in the room and went out of their way to avoid awkward social situations with each other. But this time he had no choice. He knew that she and Malcolm had been firm friends, and he didn't want her to hear the news along with the rest of the team. That didn't mean that her kneejerk refusal of a lift hadn't hurt, all the same. Apparently the idea of spending time in a confined space with him repulsed her. He shook his head angrily at himself; now was not the time for self-pity. Malcolm needed him, needed _them_, so all personal considerations would have to take a back seat.

She was standing on the pavement under a street lamp, and the sight of her brought back memories of the dream he'd had earlier. The realisation that he was unlikely to ever experience that with her in real life came to him unbidden, and he had to fight down a wave of sadness as he pulled in next to her. By the time she had slid into the passenger seat, his emotions were back under control and she didn't notice anything amiss in his demeanour.  
"What's going on?" she queried as she fought with her handbag, trying to disentangle it from her scarf. There was a note of annoyance in her voice, letting him know that she did not appreciate the way he'd forced her to accept the lift.  
When he didn't answer straight away, she stopped fidgeting and looked at him. He glanced at her before returning his attention to the road.  
"...It's Malcolm, Ruth. He was snatched from his house an hour ago."

That was the last thing she had expected him to say. She stared at him, trying to make sense of what he'd said, before the questions began tumbling from her.  
"Why? Who took him? Do you think it's linked to an operation from Malcolm's time?"  
Harry held up a hand and she fell silent.  
"I don't know anything at this stage. Please hold on the theories until we have the team assembled, yes?"  
She nodded and turned her head to watch the quiet streets flash by. Harry's hands were tense on the wheel and she realised that he was deeply concerned about Malcolm. A thought occurred to her.  
"Is that why you offered me a lift? So I wouldn't hear it with the rest of the team?"  
Harry pursed his lips and kept his eyes on the road; it was obvious that the question was unwelcome.  
"You and Malcolm were close," was all he said in response in the end.  
Despite the non-answer, she knew she was right, and was moved by his thoughtfulness towards her. Still, after everything that had happened between them.  
"Thanks," she said softly, although she wanted to say so much more. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive, their minds occupied by concern for Malcolm. Both were bleakly wondering if he was at that very moment being tortured or mistreated in any way.

As they stopped in front of Thames House, Ruth broke the silence. "He told me once that bravery was something he feared."  
Harry turned to her. "We'll find him," he vowed determinedly. Then, wanting to reassure her, he added, "Malcolm is an incredibly brave man, even though he may not think so. Don't forget that he offered himself up to save the boy..."  
She flinched and too late he realised what he was saying and stopped talking abruptly. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air and he berated himself furiously for opening up old wounds.  
"Ruth-"  
"It's fine," she replied brusquely, before getting out of the car and walking briskly into the building without waiting for him.  
Harry sat, staring after her sadly, then followed her in at a more measured pace.

- 0 -

Dimitri had brewed coffee potent enough to wake the dead and they sat around the conference table with steaming cups in front of them. It pained Harry that apart from himself and Ruth, none of the others assembled had been there during Malcolm's time. It was an unpleasant reminder of how many people he had lost in the last few years, and he wondered dully how long his present team would have together before death ripped them apart too. Although, calling the group of people in front of him a team was probably too generous. He was struggling to build a rapport with the two newest recruits. Since his new Section Chief, Erin Watts, had been forced on him by the JIC, it was understandable that he found it difficult to trust her and take her into his confidence. However, it was harder to explain why he hadn't taken to Calum Reed, the new techie. There was something about the man's glib and cavalier manner which he didn't like, and he suspected those impressions were shared by Ruth. Still, together with Dimitri and Tariq, these were the people at his disposal and he would have to make do.

He took a sip of the coffee and winced. It really was appalling. "A former member of Section D, who retired two years ago, has been abducted from his home around midnight. Malcolm Wynn-Jones."  
Erin glanced at her watch. It was almost two. "Why are we handling it? There is a special unit for these kind of things, isn't there?"  
This sort of reaction was exactly what annoyed Harry about her. She was ambitious, which was not a problem in itself, but it became one when that ambition caused an unwillingness to do anything that was outside the norm, or anything that would look unfavourable on her file. He didn't hide his irritation when he responded.  
"We are handling it because I'm telling you so."  
Her eyes flashed mutinously, but he stared her down and she swallowed her argument.  
Harry continued, "And we look after our own, even when they have retired."  
Dimitri and Tariq nodded agreement, whilst Calum seemed to reserve judgement for the time being.

Harry brought them up to speed with what he knew, then stated, "Our first priority is to determine who took him."  
"Could it be linked to an operation he was involved in whilst working here?" Dimitri was first to ask.  
"It's possible, but Malcolm had almost twenty years' service. It would take forever to go through every operation he'd been involved in. We must take another approach."  
He voiced the thought that had been forming in the back of his mind ever since walking into Malcolm's house.  
"He was taken by a professional, well-trained snatch team. This was a military operation. Find out which countries have brought Special Forces units to London over the last week or so, and we can narrow the field considerably."

They dispersed to do his bidding, but he remained seated, using the quiet to think over recent developments. He came back to the same question time and again: why was Malcolm taken now? Why not yesterday, or a week ago, or a year ago? Something must have changed recently to prompt his abduction, but he couldn't think of any recent operations that were linked to Malcolm's time in the Section. He blew out a frustrated breath. "Where are you?" he asked the empty room. Unsurprisingly he found no answer, so he got up and went to his office to work his own connections.

An hour later, Ruth was the one who found it. She stared at the screen in disbelief, sure that she had made a mistake, and asked Tariq to check the information. Only once he confirmed it, did she get up and walk to Harry's office. He looked up expectantly as she came to a stop in front of his desk, and for a second feared the worst due to the graveness of her expression. Then she told him what she'd found.  
"It was the Americans."

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

_Monday 6 June 2011, early morning hours  
London, the Grid_

"What?" Harry blurted inelegantly. It was not the most eloquent of responses, but in his defence it was three in the morning and the Americans weren't even _on_ his list of suspects.  
Ruth ran a hand through her hair as she explained, "They requested permission to base a Special Forces unit here four days ago, which they claimed would be used to grab an Al Qaeda member they had located in Spain."  
Her eyes met his. "I checked, and they're still here. They are staying at the embassy. And CCTV shows a black van leaving the premises some time before midnight, and returning just after. Harry, I think Malcolm is being held in the embassy."

He stood up abruptly. "Come," he commanded and stalked out.  
"Meeting room!" he called and they all followed him.  
He nodded at Ruth and she briefed them on what she'd found. They shared puzzled looks, all of them at a loss as to why the Americans would snatch a former member of their section.  
Calum spoke up. "This changes things, Harry. We can't go blundering into the middle of their operation. They would not have grabbed him without good reason."  
Erin nodded, and Harry's temper flared. "Yes, because they have _never_ made a mistake in the past," he retorted scathingly. He glared at Calum, who wisely kept his mouth shut.  
Harry continued, "I know Malcolm. He is the best of men, and I will not allow anyone to ride roughshod over his rights, no matter who they are. If you are not comfortable being a part of this, you know where the door is."  
His eyes held a challenge as they moved between Erin and Calum. Part of him almost wished that they would leave, but both remained in their seats and averted their eyes.  
"Good then. See if you can find out why they took him, and whether there are any plans to move him soon."  
He stood up determinedly.  
Dimitri frowned. "Where are you going?"  
"To have a friendly chat with Mr Beecher."  
It was clear from his demeanour that the chat with the local CIA representative would be anything but friendly. As he strode out, his eye caught Ruth's, and the approval on her face stayed with him long after he'd left.

- 0 -

_Same day  
London, US Embassy_

Harry went by his house first to shower, shave and put on a suit before confronting Beecher. By the time he arrived at Grosvenor Square there was no sign that he had been up all night. Beecher was surprised by the sudden appearance of the senior MI5 officer; usually they preferred to meet in more informal circumstances. But he could tell from Harry Pearce's demeanour that whatever had brought him there was a serious matter, and that he was not in the mood for games. In fact, Harry did not even waste time with the social niceties and came straight to the point.  
"You have one of my people, most likely in a secret dungeon somewhere in this building. I'd like him back."  
Beecher was caught unawares, and even though he hid it well, Harry still picked up on the slight widening of the eyes. He couldn't tell, however, whether it was attributable to surprise that MI5 knew that the Americans had taken Malcolm, or whether it was because Beecher had not been aware that the man they'd snatched had once been one of Harry's officers.

The CIA man thought for a bit as he studied his visitor. "I'm not aware of any MI5 people being held by us. Are you sure you have the right information?" His voice was smooth, almost teasing, and it angered Harry.  
"At around midnight a professional snatch team grabbed Malcolm Wynn-Jones and bundled him into a black van. We traced that van to this embassy. So do not feign innocence; you know everything that happens in this place."  
Beecher refused to budge. "This Wynn-Jones is one of yours?"  
"Yes, and I am personally vouching for him. Whatever you lot think is going on, you're wrong. Why don't you spare your Agency's blushes by handing him over to me right now, before the extent of your error becomes known and you end up looking like mugs?"

The American smiled thinly. "Heart-warming though your concern for our reputation is, I can't help you. We don't have your man."  
Harry was working hard to hold his temper in check. "For God's sake. I _know_ he's here."  
The two men stared at each other, neither willing to give an inch. Harry tried a different tack.  
"Can you at least tell me why? What is your interest in him?"  
But Beecher's composure did not slip. "I can't tell you that, because we don't have him."  
This was the final straw and Harry's patience snapped. He stood up, planted his hands on the table and leant towards the other man menacingly.  
"Know this: I consider this man a friend. If you harm him - mentally, physically, or in any other conceivable way, you will rue the day you crossed paths with me."  
There was no doubt about the sincerity of Harry's threat, and it gave Beecher pause. He had a great deal of respect for the MI5 man, and if he were willing to go to such lengths to protect his former officer, that was something to take into consideration.

Harry was in the process of making a dramatic exit when Beecher spoke again. "Sir Harry."  
His expression dark, Harry turned around and glared at him.  
"Even though I maintain that we don't have your man, you should know that all current actions of the Agency are based on the information captured in Bin Laden's hideout."  
Harry stared at him in incomprehension. "Are you saying that you think Malcolm is an accomplice of Osama bin Laden?"  
Beecher didn't respond, but his silence was an answer in itself.  
Rather undiplomatically, Harry began to laugh. "That's absurd. You lot are much more incompetent than I gave you credit for if you believe that."  
The American bristled at the mocking in Harry's voice. "I assure you we don't act unless we have solid evidence, and I don't appreciate your tone, Sir Harry. Besides, people in glass houses and all that."  
His clipped words left no doubt as to the level of his annoyance, and Harry sobered.  
"Beecher. Malcolm is the last man who would have anything to do with Al Qaeda. I will stake my reputation on that. So stop this travesty of justice now, I beg you."  
But Beecher was no longer in the mood to indulge Harry. "We think we have strong evidence. You prove to me otherwise in the next few days, and I will consider it. Don't, however, come here again without such evidence and insult me with your smug and superior attitude."  
The American stood, indicating in no uncertain terms that the meeting was over, and Harry followed him out wordlessly. He was acutely aware that he had mishandled it badly, and his anger turned inwards. What if he had just cost Malcolm his only chance of getting out of this unharmed? The only positive he could take from the meeting was Beecher's statement that he should come back with evidence. He fervently hoped that it meant that Beecher would give them a few days to do so before taking further action with Malcolm.

- 0 -

It was difficult to breathe. The hood was not particularly tight but, combined with the asthmatic tightness in his chest, it was suffocating. Malcolm was afraid. No, that was an understatement; he was terrified. He had no idea where he was or who had taken him, and it was the uncertainty that was getting to him more than anything else. What did they want with him? He'd been out of the game for almost two years, surely he didn't have any information worth doing this for? Deep down, he knew that this was not true, and yet he clung to that belief with all his willpower. If he believed it, it became true, and he could tell them that with a clear conscience. The thing he feared more than any other was that he would break – _everyone breaks, there is no shame in it_, Harry had told him once, but Malcolm had never quite believed him – and would betray people he cared very much about. People who were still fighting, keeping the rest of them safe. Like Harry, and Ruth. _Oh please no, not that_, he thought hopelessly. _Don't let me do that_.

They had dragged him out of the van and deposited him here, on a hard chair, and left him alone for what felt like many hours. Malcolm had no real concept of time, sitting there in the dark, and he wondered whether it had been longer than a day. He badly needed to go to the loo, but no-one had come into the room to check on him since his arrival. He was tempted to get up and try to explore his surroundings, and had even tried to do it at some point, but found that they had shackled his ankles to the floor and he couldn't walk around. When had they done that, he wondered? He hadn't even noticed.

His anxiety increased exponentially as his need to relieve himself grew more urgent. He couldn't hold it for much longer, and in the end he called out; his aversion to wetting his pants overcoming his overwhelming need not to focus attention on him.  
"Hello? I need to use the toilet." His voice sounded weak and muffled to his own ears, and he hated it. He should sound more assertive; let them know that he was not intimidated by being left alone, in darkness, like this. However, the problem was that he _was_ intimidated. Very much so. The door opened and his heart rate increased tenfold, but he forced himself to repeat, "I need to use the toilet." His voice sounded slightly stronger that time, and he was inordinately proud of that fact. The hood was yanked from his head and he blinked furiously in the sudden light, unable to focus on the features of the man in front of him. The man spoke, and Malcolm did not recognise the voice, but the accent was unmistakably American.  
"Hello, Mr. Wynn-Jones. My colleague will take you to the toilet. And then you will be transferred to more comfortable accommodation. Don't be afraid, you won't be harmed."  
Malcolm was only allowed a few seconds of relief before the man spoke again, and this time there was a threatening edge to his words.  
"Not yet, at least. Your people are adamant that this is all a mistake. For your sake, I hope they're right."  
So Harry knew what had happened and was fighting for him. Malcolm had never been so grateful to another human being in his life. He was so focussed on his gratitude towards his former boss that he almost missed the American's next words.  
"If they can prove that this is the case in the next few days, we will forget the whole thing. But if they can't convince us that you had not provided logistical and IT support to Al Qaeda, life will get very unpleasant for you. I guarantee you that."  
Malcolm was too astonished to respond. Everything felt surreal, and he wondered for a moment whether he was having a bad dream. But then his eyes finally came into focus, and he looked into the face of a tall, shaven-headed black man with a fierce expression on his face, and knew that it was all very real.

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

_Same day  
The Grid_

When Harry came back onto the Grid, he was met by an atmosphere crackling with discontent. He swept a practiced eye over his charges, and it was immediately apparent that they were divided into two camps, and that there had been some sort of altercation in his absence. Ruth, Dimitri and Tariq were labouring diligently at their computers whilst Erin and Calum were sullenly slouched over some paperwork, but didn't seem to actually be doing much. He felt an instant flash of irritation; his ability to cope with this sort of bollocks severely dented by fatigue and concern for his friend. He was about to lay into the two slackers when Ruth looked up and caught his eye. Her face was pale, and her worried eyes big and startlingly blue against her waxen complexion. His heart constricted, and he had to fight the urge to walk over to her and envelop her in his arms, brutally reminding himself that such actions only happened in his dreams. Suddenly he didn't have the stomach for another altercation with the reluctant duo. His tiredness washed over him and it took every last ounce of energy he had left to walk over to Ruth's station and perch on her desk next to her chair, his back to the rest of the team.

Perhaps it was also to be blamed on his exhaustion, but he couldn't refrain from gazing at her tenderly as he murmured, "How are you?"  
Her eyes darted away, finding the emotion in his too much. "Fine."  
She saw him flinch at her abrupt tone and regretted it instantly. She added in a gentler voice, "Well, under the circumstances. Tired and frustrated might be a more accurate description, but somehow it feels disrespectful towards Malcolm to complain when he is most likely suffering much worse."  
He reached out a hand, to – what? Pat her condescendingly on the shoulder? Rub her arm? Take her hand? He was at a loss as to what was acceptable, or _needed_, at that moment by this woman he loved so much. His hand dropped back to his side limply, and his face closed off the emotion she had seen there just seconds before. Ruth watched it all happen and felt a deep sorrow. How had they ever come to this point, where even the simple gestures of one human to another had become beyond them? Her eyes, already burning from no sleep and the strain of staring at her screen for hours on end, now also pricked with unshed tears. Almost instinctively she reached out and brushed her fingers over the back of his hand, the same one that had reached out towards her moments before. Harry lifted his head, surprised at the gesture, then gently took hold of her fingers before she could withdraw them. He didn't clutch at them, just ever so lightly held them, allowing her to take her hand back anytime she wished. But she didn't. The unexpected human contact was what they both craved in that moment, united as they were in their distress over Malcolm, so neither wanted to break it. They stayed like that for long silent seconds, feeling each other, drawing strength from each other, holding onto the moment for as long as they could.

It was Erin that broke it, raising her voice in the silence enveloping the office to inquire about Harry's visit to the US Embassy. If she had noted the moment shared between her boss and his senior analyst, she gave no indication.  
"What did the Cousins have to say?"  
Harry came out of his quiet contemplation of Ruth with regret, and felt her softly squeeze his fingers as he reluctantly withdrew them. It made his battered heart a little more hopeful.  
"Beecher denied any knowledge at first, but after some persuasion obliquely admitted that they have Malcolm."  
Dimitri stood up, stretching his tall frame wearily and walking around his desk.  
"Did he say why?"  
Folding his arms, Harry pushed himself upright and turned to face the others. "He intimated that they picked up Malcolm's name in the documents they confiscated at Osama bin Laden's house."

There was a stunned silence.  
"But that's absurd!" Ruth was the first to voice what most of the people in the room were thinking.  
Harry smiled mirthlessly. "That's what I said." He looked down for a moment, before lifting his head with a solemn expression. "And then I regrettably followed it up with insulting comments about the intelligence of the Agency." His eyes found Ruth's. "It was a stupid thing to do, and I fear it may have lost us any currency we could have used to help Malcolm."  
In his fatigue he was unable to hide his self-reproach at what had happened. It was clear that should they fail to secure Malcolm's release, he would blame himself. He fully expected Ruth to turn away from him, to also apportion blame to him, so the look of understanding in her eyes as she watched him steadily took him by surprise.  
"It's not your fault, Harry," she said determinedly, and even as his heart lifted, he morosely wondered how many more times she would have cause to tell him that. It continued to astound him that her faith in him remained, even when his self-doubt seemed to increase on a daily basis.

"So what do we do now?" Dimitri queried.  
Harry pondered briefly. "Tariq, Calum. Can you get into the local CIA database and find out in what way the Bin Laden documents implicate Malcolm?"  
Calum opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak Tariq was already nodding. "We'll try," the young techie promised.  
"Soon as you can," Harry asked before turning to his Section Chief.  
"Erin, a word."  
All warmth had been stripped from his voice, and he turned and stalked off without waiting for her answer. She followed him resignedly, and Dimitri and Ruth shared a glance before returning to their work.

"Close the door," Harry ordered as he took himself behind his desk.  
He waited silently until she had seated herself in the chair across from him.  
"I can cut the atmosphere out there with a knife. What happened while I was gone?"  
The question surprised her. Somehow she had expected that Ruth would already have tattled, and that she would be hauled over the coals without ceremony the moment the door closed behind her.  
"Didn't teacher's pet tell you?" she snapped, knowing full well she was baiting him.

Erin couldn't explain why she felt the need to do so. She had never been particularly bothered whether other people liked her, and when she had first been assigned to Harry Pearce's section, it was with the express instruction to keep an eye on his activities after the Inquiry. As a result she could sense the wariness with which he interacted with her, and especially his unwillingness to trust her fully. She had been fine with it at first, and had got a perverse sense of satisfaction from the power she thought the situation would give her over him. It was a heady feeling knowing that she could destroy such a powerful man with one damning report. Because she held that trump card she had expected him to treat her with deference, but it never happened. He was professional towards her, but never deferential. It was as though he didn't care that she could destroy him; he merely treated her as another member of his team. He expected loyalty from her, the same way he expected it from everyone else in his Section, but he never deigned to demand it. He simply assumed that he would get it, and it worked a charm with the others. They were all striving to live up to his expectations without him having to say a word. As time passed and she got more of a sense of the type of man he was, she found herself similarly drawn in. For some reason she now wanted his full trust, desired it even.

She could tell from the moment she had arrived on the Grid that Ruth Evershed held a special place in Harry's heart. But more than that, the analyst had this man's unwavering professional trust and admiration despite everything that was rumoured to have happened between them, and it irked Erin that she was unlikely to gain it to the same degree. She would never admit to it, but subconsciously she was aware that she was envious of Ruth. For the first time in her career, winning the respect of her superior meant more to her than advancing her own prospects. The fact that she had little chance of doing so paradoxically made her lash out at him sometimes, like she had done with her snide, unfair comment about Ruth just now. She stared at him defiantly, expecting explosive anger in response. But it never came. He just watched her, not saying anything, disappointment oozing from every pore. She couldn't bear it.  
"Sorry, that was uncalled for," she mumbled, her eyes sliding away from his.  
He remained quiet, an eyebrow raised expectantly, and she realised belatedly that he was waiting for an answer to his question. She considered her words carefully.  
"Calum expressed an opinion that we shouldn't get involved in this case, and basically indicated that he would not lift a finger to help someone that could have been in cahoots with the most wanted man on the planet. Ruth took exception. Calum became somewhat overzealous in making his argument; he got up in her personal space and Dimitri felt it necessary to step in. Apparently he thought Calum was acting in a threatening manner towards her."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he struggled to keep hold of his temper. The thought of Ruth being physically intimidated by a member of their team, and on the Grid to boot, was not something he would tolerate. When he spoke, there was a coldness to his voice that Erin had not heard before.  
"And what is your assessment of what happened?"  
She hesitated. On the one hand she wanted to cover for Calum, because she felt they should stick together within the team. It was not that the others deliberately excluded them, but there was a sense of them being outsiders, sent to spy on those that were affected and tainted by the Albany affair. However, she felt that he had gone too far, and had secretly been relieved when Dimitri had stepped in.  
She took a deep breath and plunged in. "I can understand why Dimitri felt the need to intervene."  
When Harry's face darkened dangerously, she hastened to add, "I don't think Calum would ever have harmed Ruth, but sometimes he can give that appearance. People who don't know him well, tend to misinterpret his intentions."  
"And where were you when this happened?"  
Erin frowned in confusion. "I was here."  
"I see," Harry said chillingly. "And yet it was Dimitri who had to step in."  
He was no longer bothering to restrain his anger. It came off him in waves.  
"I cannot tell you how sick I am of this nonsense. This is not a bloody kindergarten, where we play Who Does Teacher Like Best or squabble over who has the best toys. We are a team, and you are the Team Leader. Start acting like it, or find another job."

He turned away, effectively dismissing her from his presence. Erin slinked to the door, thoroughly chastised.  
"Erin."  
She stopped and looked at his profile.  
"This is your last chance. Don't squander it." He didn't look at her whilst he was speaking, and each calmly spoken word felt like a punch to the stomach.  
"Yes Harry," she responded miserably.

- 0 -

By late afternoon Harry ventured from his office to find everyone still hard at work, grey-faced from exhaustion.  
"Tariq, Calum. Any progress?"  
Tariq turned bloodshot eyes to him. "Nothing. Everything we try gets blocked." He rubbed a hand over his stubbled face. "It's as though they know what we're going to try before we even do it."  
Harry's gaze moved between the two techies thoughtfully. "Okay." He turned to face the room. "All of you, go home. Get some sleep. Be here bright and early tomorrow morning."  
As he walked past Ruth's desk, he murmured, "I need to talk to you." It was accompanied by a meaningful look, letting her know that this was work-related, and she nodded mutely in response.

Half an hour later, they were seated on a bench along a quiet stretch of the Embankment, drinking take-away coffee. After glancing casually around them to make sure that no-one was in earshot, Harry pronounced, "We'll have to get the information from one of the computer terminals in the US embassy."  
Ruth grimaced. "That means you'll have to convince Beecher to meet with you again."  
"Yes. I'll take someone along to do the dirty work while I keep him occupied."  
"Dimitri?" Ruth suggested.  
But Harry shook his head and gave her a penetrating look. "You."

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

_Monday 6 June 2011, early evening  
London_

"Me?" asked Ruth in surprise.  
Harry nodded and took a sip of his coffee.  
"Why?" Ruth was twisting her own cup in her hands but her eyes stayed on Harry, noting every shift in his expression.  
"Because you are the only one I trust implicitly," he stated simply, holding her gaze.  
When she frowned in confusion, he explained, "I suspect we may have a leak."  
Ruth absorbed this. "On what basis?" she asked.  
"Nothing concrete at the moment. Call it an uncomfortable feeling."  
She scanned his face, but he was giving nothing away. Her mind automatically began to analyse his statement, and she reasoned aloud, "It can't be Dimitri or Tariq. You trust them, don't you?"  
Harry was silent for a long time, before saying pointedly, "I also trusted Lucas."

There was nothing she could say to that, except to feel a momentary resentment towards her former colleague. His actions had clearly caused Harry to question his ability to read people, something he had been so assured about for as long as she had known him.  
She felt the need to reassure him. "One mistake is not a pattern. And I suspect your response to Lucas was coloured by what he'd been through."  
He laughed dismissively. "You didn't make that mistake, though."  
"Because I never knew Lucas – before Russia. I couldn't tell the damage it had done to him, how it had changed him. You could, and you felt you owed him your trust as a result. There's nothing wrong with that. In fact, it's why the rest of us strive so hard to repay you with our loyalty."  
Smiling slightly, she added softly, "We want to be worthy of your trust."  
Harry was touched. Her initial anger at him for not believing her about Lucas was still fresh in his mind. Apparently she had forgiven him for that, but there were still so many other things she could hold against him, he knew.  
"Be that as it may. I'm not willing to stake Malcolm's freedom, or possibly even his life, on being wrong. So until I know otherwise, you are the only one I trust."  
He watched her until she nodded assent, indicating that she would do the same.  
"Thank you, Ruth." Harry smiled at her gratefully, observing her closely as he did so. She looked dead on her feet, and he added impulsively, "You look exhausted. Let me take you home."  
The hesitant expression on his face, and her own fatigue, decided her. "Okay, thanks."  
He couldn't hide his surprise, or his subsequent delight, at her acceptance, and she followed him back to the car deep in thought.

- 0 -

Beecher walked down to the basement of the embassy pondering what he should do. He entered a code into a heavy security door and it swung open to reveal a control room with screens monitoring the inside of a couple of holding cells. Each cell was equipped with a cot, toilet and small wash basin. He nodded at the man on duty and moved towards the monitor showing the room in which the MI5 man was being held.  
"What's he been doing?"  
"Nothing interesting, except from using the crapper rather a lot."  
They both stared at the monitor, on which Wynn-Jones could be seen lying prone on the narrow cot. Beecher studied the grainy image as though it could provide him with the answers to his many questions. After a while he turned to the other man.  
"Make sure he's treated well. No-one lays a finger on him until I say so."  
His companion frowned. "We won't be able to fend off the Military Intelligence interrogators for much longer. They're already screaming murder because we haven't handed him over yet."  
Beecher nodded. "Just for another day or so."  
He turned and left the room before reaching for his phone and calling his deputy. "Jim, I want you to send all the Wynn-Jones material to my computer. I want to go through it again."  
As he walked back to his office, his mind kept worrying at the problem. Harry Pearce should, after recent events, logically be hesitant to stick his head above the parapet when anyone on his team is accused of betrayal. He got the last one horribly wrong, after all. Why then was he so adamant that Wynn-Jones was innocent? Beecher was developing a bad feeling about the whole thing.

- 0 -

Malcolm stared up at the featureless ceiling above him. He knew they were watching; he'd spotted the camera in the smoke detector as soon as he entered the room. It was an uncomfortable thought to know that someone was looking at him while he used the loo, and at first he had tried to hold out for as long as he could before doing so. However, the tension made him want to go often, and he soon figured out how to pee with his back to the camera. They had not mistreated him in any way, but no-one spoke to him either, and the silence was getting on his nerves. He tried to remember everything he could about interrogation techniques, and the more he remembered, the more he began to second-guess each and every development. Did Harry actually know that he was here, and was his former boss really working to prove his innocence? What if those had been lies told to lull him into a false sense of security? Perhaps the relatively good treatment he was receiving was part of the same ruse, and it would all end suddenly in brutal interrogation.

These thoughts increased his agitation, and he forced himself to think about something else. The American apparently had the impression that he had aided Osama Bin Laden in some way. Whilst that thought scared the hell out of him, knowing what the Americans did to terrorists, it also intrigued him professionally.  
_Did it mean that it had actually worked?_  
What irony it would be if that were the case. The one time in his life that he had blatantly gone against Harry's orders, and it could have landed him in this predicament. The trouble with this scenario was, unfortunately, that Harry would have no idea what he'd done. He wondered whether whoever had replaced him on the team was smart enough to figure it out. And for once in his life he fervently hoped that there _was_ someone smarter than him in Section D, working on it.

- 0 -

_Tuesday 7 June 2011  
London, the Grid_

The moment he stepped through the doors, Harry pulled off his scarf and surveyed the Grid. Ruth, Tariq and Calum were already there. Reed's presence surprised him in light of the man's reluctance to get involved in Malcolm's case. His gaze came to rest on Ruth and he gave her an imperceptible nod.  
"Tariq, Calum, my office."  
The two techies trooped after Harry, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Ruth hurried to the tech room and started hunting among the many gadgets stacked on the shelves. It took only a few minutes to identify the ones she wanted. She pocketed them before making sure that their absence would not be apparent unless someone was actively looking for it. Then she walked back to her desk at a normal pace, catching Harry's eye as she passed in front of his office. A few minutes later Tariq and Calum emerged.  
"What the hell was that about?" Calum grumbled. "He _knows_ we haven't been able to get into the CIA database – we told him that yesterday."  
Tariq shrugged, having long ago given up any attempt to understand the mysterious workings of his boss' head.

Harry followed shortly afterwards. "Ruth, I need you to attend the JIC meeting with me. They want feedback on the new classification system for terror threats."  
"Right." Ruth started scurrying around to gather some files whilst Harry stood waiting, rocking from foot to foot impatiently.  
"Ruth," he said in an exasperated tone, looking at his watch pointedly.  
"Coming!" She stuffed the files into her bag and grabbed her coat before following him out the door.  
Once the lift doors had closed, shielding them from prying eyes, he took her coat from her and held it out so that she could shrug it on, transferring her bag from hand to hand to do so.  
"Thanks," she mumbled, glancing at him briefly before looking away again.  
He had a wistful expression on his face as he pondered how Ruth, despite being much more assertive since her exile, had kept some of her bumbling traits, and how he loved it when these came to the fore every once in a while. They were a reminder of a less complicated time, when so much still seemed possible between them.

- 0 -

_Same day  
Grosvenor Square_

Beecher escorted them to a meeting room next to his office, making no attempt to hide his annoyance at their unannounced arrival. Harry and Ruth seated themselves around the table, staying quiet as Beecher snatched up the phone and ordered someone to bring them coffee. He didn't ask whether they would prefer tea.  
"To what do I owe the dubious honour?" He turned to Harry, who did his best to look contrite.  
"I owe you an apology. My manner at our previous meeting was rude and uncalled for. It's no excuse I know, but Malcolm is a good friend and I'm worried about him. I'm sorry, Alton."  
The American relaxed a bit and was about to speak when a secretary brought in the coffee. Ruth used the distraction to make her move.  
"I saw a Ladies down the corridor; I'll be right back."  
Beecher nodded vaguely, his eyes focussed on the coffee. He knew that Ruth was an analyst and therefore did not expect her to attempt anything whilst out of his sight.

Moving swiftly to Beecher's office, Ruth fished the electronic key device from her coat pocket. She hurriedly plugged it into the card slot on the door, checking up and down the corridor to make sure that there were no eyewitnesses. It felt as though an eternity passed before the door clicked open. She slipped inside and softly pushed the door shut, then stood for a moment surveying the office. It didn't look like there was a particular pattern to the stuff strewn over the desk; perhaps their unexpected arrival had left him no time to arrange the items so that any disturbance would immediately be apparent. Despite this she was careful not to move any of the objects as she stepped behind the desk and retrieved the hard drive copier from her other pocket. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she gingerly inserted it into the flash drive slot, almost expecting alarms to start screaming as she did so. Nothing happened and she began breathing again.

So far so good. A glance at her watch told her that she'd been gone from the meeting for over five minutes. If she stayed away too long it would arouse Beecher's suspicion, so she took a decision to only copy the last fifty documents he had accessed. She could only hope that he had recently looked at the documentation pertaining to Malcolm, but copying everything on his computer would simply take too long. The adrenalin rushing through her system increased with every second that passed, and when the computer beeped to indicate that the task was completed, she practically snatched the device out of it. After one more check that she had not disturbed anything, she eased open the door and peeked out cautiously. The corridor was deserted. Still, she stepped out confidently and closed the door firmly behind her, mindful of Harry's instruction to look as though she was doing exactly what she was supposed to.  
_Don't hesitate_, his voice repeated in her head. As she reached out a hand to open the meeting room door, a young man came strolling down the corridor, eyeing her curiously. She smiled at him and smoothly opened the door, stepping through.

Harry barely glanced up as she entered, continuing with what he was saying without a hitch. Beecher gave her a more searching look before turning back to Harry. Ruth moved to the side table and made herself a cup of coffee. Her hands were steady as she carried it to the table, a fact she was rather proud of. By the time she tuned back in to the conversation, she realised that the CIA man had given up all pretence that they did not have Malcolm.  
"I'll admit, Harry, that your faith in your man has given me some pause, so much so that I went over the evidence again last night."  
Ruth heaved an internal sigh of relief; this meant that she had definitely captured the relevant documents.  
Beecher continued, "And I'm sorry to say that it seems pretty incontrovertible to me."  
Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully. "When you've been in this wretched business as long as I have, you learn that very few things are incontrovertible."  
"Maybe," Beecher conceded, "but I think you should prepare yourself for the fact that you may be wrong about him."  
Concern etched deep into the lines of his face, Harry looked at Ruth, almost as if seeking reassurance that his faith in Malcolm was not misplaced. He found that reassurance in her resolute expression, in spades.  
"Will you give me a little more time to prove otherwise?" he asked Beecher resignedly.  
The other man nodded. "Another twenty four hours. After that I can't promise anything. Once I hand him over to Military Intelligence I have no control over what happens to him."

- 0 -

Ruth waited until they were safely ensconced in the car before declaring triumphantly, "Got it."  
In return she received a genuine smile from Harry. "I never doubted that you would. Let's have a look."  
He passed her a laptop and she inserted the device before scrolling quickly through the documents from Beecher's computer. Harry stretched an arm along the back of the seat and leaned in close to read over her shoulder. His proximity, the solidness of him, and the warmth he radiated made Ruth's heart rate speed up; the intensity of her physical reaction to him catching her off-guard. Thankfully Harry was too focussed on the screen to notice anything.

All of this was soon forgotten as she scanned the documents with a growing sense of alarm. She could feel Harry tense next to her before he spoke almost involuntarily.  
"Oh, Malcolm, what have you _done_?"

_tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

_Tuesday 7 June 2011  
London, the Embankment_

They were back on the bench, watching the rest of London rush by, trying to get to their offices on time. It was turning into a nice day and Ruth lifted her face to the sun. She couldn't help but contemplate how many significant moments between her and Harry had occurred whilst sitting on a bench; how, in fact, it was on the first such occurrence that she had pledged her allegiance to him. From that day on, she mused, her loyalty had been to him first, and the Service second. Luckily for her the two things had almost always been the same thing. Her thoughts went to Tom, and she wondered briefly where he was now, before turning her mind to the problem at hand.

Harry's reaction to the information she'd got from Beecher's computer intrigued her, to say the least. Whilst she had been alarmed at the strong evidence it provided against Malcolm, he had seemed more proud than concerned about what he'd read. When she'd turned to him questioningly, he had hustled her out of the car and down to the river. And now he was sitting next to her quietly, a far-off look in his eyes as he stared at the Houses of Parliament. She studied him, and couldn't help but ponder how much they both had changed since that first time they had sat on a bench like this, discussing a colleague. More jaded by all that they had experienced since that day, and more worn down by their cares and sorrows. It saddened her.

When it became evident that Harry had no intention of breaking the silence, she spoke. "What's going on?"  
Reluctantly he turned his head and observed her. She looked so composed, so self-contained as she sat there, that he was reminded again that she obviously did not need him in the same way he needed her. Somehow, he thought, if she should never see him again, she would move on with her life. She would allow herself to fall in love, to start again. And he could not. Would not, more accurately. He would forever mourn the thing that never was between them, until the day he died. In that sense, she was stronger than him.  
"Harry?" she prompted again, and he mentally shook himself.  
"Malcolm once came to me with a proposal. This was during the time you were gone," he clarified. "He had this theory, which sounded farfetched to my ear, that it was possible to penetrate Al Qaeda electronically. I didn't understand most of what he said, I admit."  
Ruth smiled at that.  
"The idea was roughly to send an email to known Al Qaeda sympathisers from someone claiming to have information about the Security Services' surveillance on them. There would be a link in the email, and once they clicked on it a virus would download that copied all material from that computer and forwarded it to a server. This virus would transfer itself onto any external device plugged into that computer; memory sticks, external hard drives, CD's, and then onto the next computer that device is plugged into, and so on. We could then sift through the information and use it to build a picture of their networks."

She frowned as her mind ran through the probabilities and possibilities offered up by such a strategy. "You didn't think it would work?"  
Harry hesitated, then sighed. "When Malcolm came to me with the idea, he wasn't quite himself."  
He searched for the best way to put it. "He'd recently lost Colin, and shortly after that you left. His two closest confidantes were gone in a matter of weeks. So he compensated by working obsessively and coming up with all sorts of wild ideas. I knew what he was trying to do. I should have talked to him, but I was too caught up in my own-"  
He stopped and looked away from her, his hand unconsciously squeezing his thigh before he continued on a different tack. "I didn't handle it well, and we had a shouting match in my office. I reminded him that Al Qaeda was notoriously reticent to use email communication, but he was adamant that if the information were enticing enough, it would work - that only one person needed to open that link. I refused, and Malcolm stormed off and never mentioned the idea again."

Ruth absorbed all this, trying not to dwell on the pain in his eyes when he'd talked about her leaving. "So you think he went ahead and did it anyway?"  
"It's the only explanation as to why a bunch of Al Qaeda documents is lying on a secret server created by Malcolm." He paused. "Unless you've changed your mind about the absurdity of believing him to be a terrorist sympathiser?"  
A breathy laugh escaped her. "No, I haven't."  
"Good to know. I depend on you to keep me on the right path in these things, Ruth."  
He sounded melancholy, and Ruth knew that was as close as he'd ever come to admitting how much he doubted his judgement at the moment. She decided to lighten the mood.  
"So Malcolm disobeyed a direct order from you? Brave man."  
It was Harry's turn to laugh. "Perhaps he counted on me being too much of a Luddite to figure out that he had done so. Not an unrealistic assumption, unfortunately."  
Though he didn't mention it, Ruth could tell from his expression that he suspected Malcolm had also used his boss' distraction at the loss of his beloved analyst to slip his actions under the radar. The words 'it's not your fault' was on the tip of her tongue but she swallowed them, realising that she was beginning to sound like a broken record.  
"Does this mean we can prove his innocence?" she asked instead.  
Harry frowned. "I don't know. We'll have to ask our resident boffins that. I'm more concerned about how the Americans found out about this. Don't you think Malcolm is smart enough to ensure that no-one outside of the Section could ever trace it back to him?"  
They looked at each other meaningfully, neither having to say it: they had a leak.

- 0 -

_The Grid_

Tariq lifted his eyes fractionally and glanced over his terminal. Calum was talking to Dimitri and Erin, his back to his fellow techie. Good. They had been trying all morning to get into the local CIA database, still without success. Tariq, however, felt certain that at least three of the strategies they'd employed should have worked. He was more convinced than ever that someone was warning the Americans. Which was why he was running a diagnostic on all computer traffic from their Section, checking for anomalies. As his fingers flew over the keyboard, he kept one eye on his colleagues. Whenever one of them moved in his direction, he swiftly minimised the diagnostic window until the danger had passed. He'd already cleared Harry and Ruth, and was moving on to Dimitri. He did not expect it to be him, but he had to be sure. After what had happened with Lucas he couldn't be too careful. Still, he hoped fervently that Dimitri would be innocent. If there was a mole, he would prefer it to be one of the newcomers. Tariq was aware that he was being unfair, but he couldn't help it. Both Erin and Calum made him feel like they were judging him for the Albany fiasco, and he resented it. If another member of that team turned out to be a traitor, Tariq wasn't sure that either Harry or his Section would survive the fallout. Glancing over his terminal once again, he ensured that the others were still safely across the room before continuing his painstaking investigation.

- 0 -

Harry and Ruth returned from the JIC meeting an hour before lunch. He had told Ruth to do nothing about Malcolm until they had figured out who the leak was, and was currently ensconced in his office, trying to think of an IT expert outside his Section that he could use. His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion in the outer office. He emerged to find Tariq and Calum nose-to-nose, shouting at each other, whilst Erin was trying to separate them. Calum's demeanour was quite aggressive, and Harry was reminded about the earlier incident between Calum and Ruth. Was this how he had acted towards her? The thought angered him and he stepped forward authoritatively.  
"_Enough_!"  
The sharply barked word brought everyone up short and a tense silence settled over the Grid. Calum opened his mouth to state his case, but Harry held up a warning hand. His angry flush and set jaw left no-one in any doubt as to his feelings. He glared at the two men.  
"My office, now." As he turned away he nodded at Erin. "You too."

They filed into his office and Erin closed the door. Calum made to sit in one of the visitors' chairs but Harry snapped irritably, "You'll remain standing, and speak only when you're spoken to."  
He glared at them for a few seconds more before turning to Erin.  
"Speak," he commanded curtly.  
Erin looked at him warily. "I don't know what's going on. They just suddenly started yelling at each other."  
"Who started it?" Harry demanded, never taking his eyes off the two men.  
Erin dipped her head, and made a choice as to where her loyalties laid. "Calum," she said regretfully but clearly.  
Harry turned his head towards her and observed her closely, fully aware of what had just happened.  
"Thank you," he dismissed her in a more kindly tone.

When she'd gone, he addressed Calum. "You first."  
The kindly tone was definitely no longer in evidence, and Calum, still reeling from the fact that Erin had not covered for him, took a deep breath.  
"I caught Tariq running a diagnostic on my computer."  
Harry's eyebrows lifted in surprise and he turned to the younger man.  
"Did you run a diagnostic on his computer?"  
Tariq nodded, then added defiantly, "I ran one on _everyone's_ computers."  
Taken aback, Harry stood speechless for a moment. "You ran one on _mine_?" he finally asked.  
Tariq nodded again, this time a tad apprehensively.  
"Why?" his boss asked calmly, impressed by the young man's daring.  
His eyes darting to Calum, Tariq explained, "We should have been able to get into the CIA database. There's no way they could have kept us out, unless someone was warning them. I was trying to find out who it was."  
"I see." Harry's unblinking gaze was now fixed on Tariq. "And did you?"  
In response, Tariq looked at Calum and said, "If you don't tell him, I will."  
Calum stared at his colleague, before a small, sardonic smile settled around his mouth. "You're a smart guy, Tariq."  
He turned to Harry. "It was me. I warned the Americans."

There was something in Harry's eyes that disturbed him, something deeper than anger. The senior man turned away from them to look out onto the Grid, his focus automatically settling on Ruth.  
"Thank you Tariq. Leave us, please," he requested absently.  
The door closed behind the young techie and a pregnant silence settled on the two men. When it became unbearable, Calum spoke up.  
"Harry-"  
In a flash Harry was around the table and beside Calum.  
"Shut. Up." he hissed in barely controlled fury right into the man's ear, before turning away and carefully putting the desk back between them.  
He took a few deep breaths and waited for Calum to look him in the eye, before demanding ominously: "You not only told the CIA about MI5 trying to hack into their database, did you. You told them something else as well. _Didn't you_."

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

_Tuesday 7 June 2011  
London, The Grid_

Calum Reed was a brash young man who didn't scare easily. He was confident in his ability to hold his ground against most other men. However, standing there in front of a furious Harry Pearce, he was afraid. The brown eyes had darkened to a glittering near-black, and there was no trace of mercy to be found in the set features that glowered at him from across the desk. In that moment he was reminded what a hard man his boss was rumoured to be; a man who ruthlessly dealt with those he perceived to be enemies. The thought that he now found himself on that list spurred Calum on to offer a hasty explanation.  
"I did my duty! If I know that a current or former officer is betraying us to Al Qaeda, I have an obligation to report it."  
"Yes you do. But not to the bloody Americans! You come to _me_!"  
Sweat began to form on Harry's upper lip as he struggled not to lose control. He cast around for something to take out his anger on. The only thing within easy reach was the phone, so he grabbed the receiver and smashed it against the edge of the desk. Hard, a couple of times, making Calum flinch away. The sound startled everyone in the outer office into immobility, and all heads turned to Harry's office. The receiver came apart in his hands and he hurled it away from him in disgust, before sitting down and rubbing his face with both hands.

"Why didn't you come to me?" he asked after collecting himself.  
Calum shifted from one foot to the other. "Everyone knows that you're unreceptive towards claims that your officers are disloyal to you. I thought-"  
Harry lifted his head. "What? What did you think? That I would be more receptive towards your kind of treachery?"  
"No!" Calum's eyes flashed. "I thought that if I let the Americans deal with it, it would spare MI5 from doing so. I know Malcolm Wynn-Jones' reputation; his betrayal could devastate us."  
"How altruistic." Harry bit off the words. "Since you've arrived here, you have done nothing but promote your own agenda and sow dissension within my team. Forgive me if I regard your excuse with incredulity."

Calum looked at his shoes. "Look. I know I haven't been a model team member until now. But I didn't do it to undermine you, or the team. You must know that your Section is deemed the cream of the crop in MI5, and everyone wants to work here. I thought if I could find some old, dormant operation and resurrect it with a bit of technical wizardry, I'd score points with you. But when I trolled through this Malcolm's work, I stumbled on a very cleverly hidden back door in the database that didn't seem to go anywhere. It took me a month to trace it to the server with all the Al Qaeda documents on it." He paused. "Wynn-Jones is a genius, I'll give him that."  
When Harry didn't react to this statement, he continued. "Anyway. I didn't want to bring it to you because then I would just be the bloke that discovered that Malcolm Wynn-Jones was a traitor. It would stain me for the rest of my career. But if the Americans knew, they would act on it, and it would solve the problem for everyone rather neatly."

Harry looked past Calum to find Ruth's eyes on him, obviously concerned about what was going on.  
"Except for Malcolm, of course," he stated wearily.  
"What?"  
"It worked out neatly for everyone, except Malcolm," Harry reiterated.  
Calum frowned. "But he's a traitor, he doesn't deserve our-"  
"No." Standing up to emphasise his point, Harry glared at Calum. "Malcolm is _not_ a traitor. What you stumbled on was an operation to penetrate Al Qaeda electronically. If you hadn't gone off half-cocked instead of checking with me, you would have known that. Instead, you caused an innocent man to be snatched from his home and lumped in with terrorists."  
Calum paled. "But there was no official paperwork, nothing to indicate that it was a sanctioned operation."  
This time he received a pitying look from his boss. "If you think everything we do here is officially sanctioned, you're going to be severely disillusioned."  
Harry paused for emphasis. "And _that's_ why you bloody well check with me before you do anything rash, like hand information over to the Americans."  
"Oh, shit." Calum sank down on one of the visitors' chairs, and Harry let him be.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea. There was no indication..."  
"Yes, well, you were right about one thing: Malcolm _is_ a genius," Harry stated mercilessly. "In fact, I'm surprised that you were even able to find that back door and server."  
He scrutinised the dumbfounded techie in front of him speculatively. "The fact that you did find it speaks well for your own talent. We can use that to help Malcolm. We need to prove that it was set up as a trap for Al Qaeda, and I want you to do it."  
Calum's head snapped up. "_Me_?"  
"Yes. You got him into this mess, and you will get him out of it. There are only a few hours remaining before Malcolm will be handed over to their Military Intelligence, who will fly him God knows where to be tortured, and we need to get the proof before that happens. So why don't you go back to your desk, and prove to me how much you want to remain in this Section."  
With a determined look, Calum straightened up. "I will."  
"One more thing." Harry's voice had dropped to a low, no-nonsense tone. "If you _ever_ act in a threatening manner towards any of the others again, you are _out_. Do you understand?"  
Calum swallowed. There would be no second chances on this point, he realised. "Yes Harry."  
Harry nodded dismissively, not looking at him as he exited the office.

His mind had already moved on to other things, and he reached for his phone, only to find the receiver missing.  
"Oh shag," he muttered, before heaving himself to his feet and striding to the door.  
"Erin! Dimitri!" he yelled, and moved back to his desk.  
They appeared sharply.  
"There is a possibility that Malcolm may be moved from the Embassy in the early morning hours. I want you to draw up a plan to snatch him back from the Americans."  
The two field officers looked at each other in astonishment. Dimitri recovered first and a slow, delighted smile spread over his face.  
"Seriously?"  
"Seriously," Harry confirmed.  
He heard Dimitri laugh as they exited his office and proclaim to Erin, "This is a great job."  
Harry couldn't help but smile to himself at that.

He followed them to the outer office and explained briefly what was going on to the rest of the team. He did not tell them that Calum had given the information on Malcolm to the Americans, only that it had been an operation from some time ago that the Americans got hold of and misinterpreted. When he'd finished, Tariq got up and followed Calum back to their workstation. In response to the other man's surprised expression, he shrugged, "I'll help you. We have a better chance of figuring something out together."  
Ruth and Harry smiled at each other, almost like proud parents. Remembering something else, Harry leaned in towards Ruth.  
"Erm, could you perhaps ask Maintenance to come and replace my phone? It seems to be broken."  
She squashed a smile and nodded, then stopped him from walking off with a hand on his arm. "You okay? Is it only the phone that's broken?"  
He enjoyed her touch, and wondered fleetingly if people would find it strange if he should remain standing there for a long time to keep on enjoying it. As always, she calmed him by her mere presence.  
"I'm fine. Only the phone's broken," he assured her with a gentle smile.  
"Good," she said and trailed her hand down his arm before removing it slowly.  
Harry went back to his office with a lighter step.

- 0 -

_Same day, 19:00_

When Ruth entered, Harry looked up expectantly.  
"Any progress?"  
She shook her head. "Not yet."  
He got up and moved to the glass wall, observing the two heads bent over the same terminal, one dark and one blond. "How's it going between those two?"  
"They're working well together, bouncing ideas off each other without resorting to shouting," she smiled as she came to stand next to him.  
"Hmm. Calum has the makings of a genius, if he can be steered to apply his talents in the right direction," he commented lightly.  
Ruth studied him, surprised. "You're thinking of keeping him on the team?"  
Harry turned his head to her. "How would you feel about that?" he asked in lieu of answering her question.  
"It doesn't matter what I feel about it," she returned somewhat shortly. "You must do what you think is best for the team."  
His eyes searched her face intently.  
"It matters to me, Ruth," he responded softly.

She looked at him sharply and their eyes held. There was such respect and adoration in those gentle eyes that she faltered, and swallowed down the rebuke that was on the tip of her tongue.  
"It shouldn't," she said lamely in the end.  
He turned towards her and slipped his hands into his pockets before he indulged in the strong urge to touch her. "I know. But it does, and I can't change that."  
When she glanced away uncomfortably, he moved off abruptly and took himself behind his desk. He was a fool for continuing to butt his head against her defences, he knew, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to let it go. She still had feelings for him, he could sense it, and as long as that was the case he would not settle for anything less; any_one_ less than this brilliant and compassionate woman he was so deeply in love with.  
"I trust your judgement, Ruth. I always have, and it has nothing to do with the way I feel about you." He sounded defensive, which annoyed him.  
"What did you want?" he asked wearily.  
Ruth stood by the glass wall and watched him as he bent his head over the papers on his desk and refused to look at her. Her eyes travelled over his familiar features, mapping every line on his face. She had been thinking about the way she felt about him ever since their early morning discussion on the bench. There was no denying it: she loved him. The feeling coursed through her anew and she was powerless against it. His determination to save Malcolm had once again highlighted all the qualities she so admired in him, and which had made her fall in love with him in the first place. Perhaps it was that which had finally convinced her that those qualities outweighed the choices he'd made that she did not agree with. Or perhaps she was just ready to let go of her own guilt, to start living again. Either way, as she stood watching him, she was filled with an overwhelming desire to get to know all of him, in both the emotional and physical sense.  
Taking a deep breath, she plunged in. "I wanted to ask if you would have dinner with me when this is over."  
His head jerked up incredulously, as though he thought he'd heard wrong; but upon seeing the truth in her eyes, his expression changed to one of cautious joy.

- 0 -

_Same day, 23:00  
US Embassy_

Malcolm was dragged from a fitful sleep by the door of his cell clanging open. The brightness of the lights dazzled him momentarily as he sat up and involuntarily pressed himself back into the wall. The scrape of a chair made him open his eyes, to find the tall CIA officer seated in front of him and regarding him quizzically. The American did not speak and the seconds ticked by ponderously.  
"Hello," Malcolm finally ventured, at a loss as to what else to say to fill the silence. Almost immediately Harry's voice spoke up in his head.  
_One of the most effective techniques of interrogation is silence. Most people can't stand it, and feel the urge to say something, anything, to fill it. Once you get them talking, it is easier to manipulate the conversation and trick them into revealing things they don't want to. The ones that never say a word are much harder to break._  
Crestfallen, he contemplated the fact that he had stumbled at the first hurdle, and resolved to do better.

Beecher continued his study of the man in front of him. "I have to admit that you seem the least likely of terror suspects. But looks can be deceiving, as we all know."  
Malcolm clamped his mouth firmly shut, determined not to utter another word.  
When he got no response, Beecher shrugged and got up. "I'm sorry, but you're to be handed over to Military Intelligence in an hour's time. I can't stall them any longer."  
The blood drained from Malcolm's face and he watched mutely as the man walked out the door. He wanted to throw himself at Beecher and cling to his legs whilst pleading with him not to do it. But he didn't, and he felt slightly better about himself for at least hanging onto his dignity for the time being.

- 0 -

_24:05_

"YES!"  
Calum's shout brought everyone running. He looked at Harry with gleaming eyes. "We've done it. We can prove the server was set up as a trap for Al Qaeda."  
He launched into a technical explanation, but his boss was no longer listening. Harry had already reached for his mobile and called Beecher, not caring about the late hour. Beecher answered promptly, which set off the warning bells in Harry's head.  
"I have proof that Malcolm is innocent. It was all part of a top secret operation to penetrate Al Qaeda electronically."  
The line crackled with ominous silence in his ear. Harry cast a worried glance at Ruth.  
"Beecher?"  
The American's voice finally answered, laced with regret.  
"I'm sorry, Sir Harry. Military Intelligence left with your man five minutes ago. You're too late."

_tbc_


	8. Chapter 8

_Wednesday 8 June 2011  
Just after midnight_

Once again he was enveloped in darkness. The hood was back over his head, and Malcolm's breath was wheezing laboriously into his lungs. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had an asthma attack, but the fear and stress of the last few days was beginning to tell on him. The brief glimpse he'd got of his new captors before they yanked the hood over his head had petrified him. There was undisguised hatred and contempt on the faces of the soldiers, and he knew they were just waiting for him to give them an excuse to use violence. They had none of the almost detached interest the CIA men had shown in him. For these soldiers it was personal, probably because all of them had lost friends in Afghanistan and Iraq. And they would love a chance for retribution.

The van rocked gently from side to side as it travelled through the quiet streets, and Malcolm could hear his breath rasp loudly in his ears. He hadn't known that the level of fear he was experiencing was possible without resulting in a heart attack. The soldier on his left leaned into him and held his ear closer to the prisoner. Malcolm heard him snicker and tell his buddies, "This one's about to piss his pants."  
As he gasped desperately for another precious breath, Malcolm prayed. To God, to Harry, to anyone or anything who would listen, to deliver him from this tribulation.

- 0 -

Harry lost his temper. He raised his voice to Beecher. "You promised me twenty four hours! There are eight of them left."  
"There was nothing I could do. When it comes to the War on Terror you know the CIA has lost credibility. Military Intelligence now has point on these matters. I was _ordered_ to hand him over."  
Harry dropped his hand to his side, trying to think clearly despite his anger. Raising the phone back to his ear, he asked coldly, "Where are they taking him?"  
"I can't tell you that. Why don't you ask the little bird that whispered in our ear previously."  
With that, the American rang off abruptly.

Harry frowned at Beecher's strange choice of words. What on earth was he talking about? What little bird? He was about to vent his frustration when his eyes fell on Calum, and everything clicked into place.  
_Of course_.  
"How did you communicate with the Americans?" he asked the techie urgently.  
Calum regarded his boss fearfully. "I created an Internet chat room and provided them with a code to enter it."  
"Check it now," Harry ordered, before turning to Ruth. "Tell Erin they're on."  
She grabbed the nearest phone, and as she was dialling, Harry leaned over Calum's shoulder whilst he accessed the chat room. There was one new entry, to Calum's surprise. It was a map of London, with a route clearly marked out, ending at an airfield on the outskirts of the city.  
"Yes," Harry stated with relief, resolving to buy Beecher all the chips with vinegar he could eat.  
Next to him Tariq was checking CCTV along the marked route, and soon pinpointed the van.  
Ruth spoke urgently to Erin. "The target is on the move." She provided the current location. "We're forwarding the route to you. You need to intercept before they reach the airfield."

Out on the streets, Dimitri threw the silver Audi into a sharp u-turn and sped after the van. He and Erin had been on their way to the US embassy when Ruth's call came in. Erin looked at the route the van would take, identifying possible intercept points. She glanced at Dimitri worriedly. "CO19 is fifteen minutes away. They won't get there in time. We can't take on the US military on our own."  
Without taking his eyes off the road, he clenched his jaw stubbornly. "We owe it to our man to try."  
He said nothing more. They both knew that it was Erin's call as Section Chief. She was also acutely aware that it was a watershed moment for her; that her decision would win or lose her the respect of her team. And of her boss.

Her thoughts jumped to the possible skirmish that lay ahead, and for the first time since joining Section D she felt the thrill running through her veins at the danger she would soon face. Never had she felt so alive, and looking at Dimitri, she knew he felt it too. In that moment they shared an unshakable bond. It was intoxicating. Without further hesitation she told Ruth, "We're going in."  
Dimitri grinned at her approvingly. "I have an idea," he announced.

- 0 -

Peter Bell sat with his feet propped on the console, munching a packet of crisps. He didn't mind the night-shift, in fact he quite enjoyed the quiet, dead hours between midnight and four in the morning. It provided a nice change from his noisy apartment block, where the local yobs took delight in drag-racing their bikes up and down the street all night. In contrast, the Emergency Services control room was an oasis of calmness. Hopefully there would be no need for them to go out tonight, and he could enjoy the peace for another few hours. He popped a crisp in his mouth and was savouring the saltiness on his tongue when the phone's shrill ring nearly made him choke on it. Scrambling upright, he hit the flashing button indicating there was a call on line one.  
"Emergency Services. What assistance do you need?"  
A frantic female voice filled his ear. "There's been a terrible accident at the corner of Baker and George Streets! One car is on fire and people are trapped in the other. Please hurry!"  
Bell glanced at the huge map against the wall, instantly locating the intersection. It was only two blocks away.  
"Help will be there in two minutes, please hold-"  
But the line had already gone dead. He had no time to think about that, instead scrambling the fire brigade, police and ambulance services to respond.

Back on the Grid, Ruth put down the phone and looked up to see her colleagues regarding her with amusement and a hint of awe.

- 0 -

The van turned the corner into Baker Street to find it completely blocked by emergency vehicles, their flashing lights turning the scene into a blue and red kaleidoscope. The driver braked abruptly, but before he could throw the van into reverse, a car roared into the intersection behind him and blocked off his retreat. As he yelled a warning to the men in the back, he saw two people jump from the car, guns at the ready. One of them took a shot at the front tyre, making the driver duck as he scrambled for his own gun. It also served to alert the police at the end of the road that something strange was happening around the van, and they came racing towards the scene with wailing sirens.

Whilst Erin covered the driver, Dimitri ran to the back and yanked open the door, to find three semi automatic weapons pointing at his face. His side-arm seemed rather ineffective against such overwhelming firepower, but he kept aiming it at the soldiers all the same. Three police cars skidded to a halt close by, causing the soldiers to hesitate.  
Mustering every ounce of self assurance he possessed, Dimitri addressed them: "You shoot, and there will be an international incident the likes of which you've never seen."  
He held up his identification. "MI5. We'd like our man back now, please."  
Two burly policemen arrived at his shoulder, Erin close behind. Slowly the American soldiers lowered their weapons and stood aside. Dimitri clambered in and gently removed the hood from Malcolm's head.  
"Hello, Malcolm," he said to the bewildered former spook. "Harry sends his regards."  
Malcolm merely stared at him as his mind struggled to catch up with developments. Upon seeing Dimitri's face - a face that was familiar to him from his short visit to the Grid to warn Harry about Lucas - the realisation that he was safe slowly began to take over from the fear permeating his mind. And for the first time since the soldiers had taken him from the Embassy, he felt able to draw in deep lungfuls of oxygen.

- 0 -

When the Audi drew up in front of Thames House, Harry and Ruth were waiting on the pavement. Harry stepped forward to open the back door, and Malcolm slowly got out. He appeared dazed, and to Harry's eye the ordeal seemed to have aged him ten years. He felt a hot spear of anger towards those responsible.  
"Malcolm," he said warmly, extending his hand.  
"Harry," Malcolm responded as a grateful smile spread across his face.  
The two friends shook hands, both relieved at having the chance to do so. Ruth stepped forward and reached out to rub Malcolm's arm.  
"It's good to see you safe," she said gravely.  
"It's good to be safe," he replied shakily.  
Whilst the two of them talked, Harry turned to Erin and Dimitri. "Really good work," he stated sincerely. It was rare to hear such warm praise from Harry, and Erin almost had to swallow down a lump in her throat. Perhaps she had a chance at securing her boss' respect and trust after all, despite the rocky start to their working relationship.

The two field officers departed and Harry reached for his mobile and made a call. He spoke briefly, his eyes on Malcolm and Ruth, before interrupting their conversation.  
"Someone wants to talk to you." He held out the mobile to Malcolm, who took it uncertainly and pressed it to his ear, to find his mother on the line. The sound of her voice brought tears to his eyes, and Ruth and Harry diplomatically moved a few steps away to give him some privacy. Ruth gave Harry a lovely smile and he almost reached out to take her hand, but refrained when he remembered that they were not alone. Ruth noticed the slight movement of his arm, though, and knew what he was thinking when he glanced quickly at Malcolm. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze before turning to Malcolm, who had finished his phone conversation. He looked exhausted as he walked toward them with a heavy tread.  
"Let's get you home, yes?" Harry said quietly as he took the mobile back. "We can talk in the car."  
Malcolm nodded in relief and the three of them got back into the Audi, Malcolm in the back seat.

The streets were mercifully empty and Harry could divide his attention between driving and succinctly updating Malcolm on what had happened. When he reached the end of his report, he hesitated briefly before saying, "I'm sorry it took so long to get you back, Malcolm. I should have realised sooner what it was all about, but I had put that unpleasant conversation between us out of my mind, I'm afraid."  
He could feel Ruth's eyes on him, and knew that she could see right through him; she realised that he deliberately never thought about it because it painfully reminded him of her leaving.  
Malcolm was too tired to pick up on the emotional undercurrent running between his two friends. He shook his head. "It's no-one's fault but my own. I should have told you that I'd done it despite your order to drop it. And I am more grateful than I can possibly express that you did get me back."

As they drew up in front of Malcolm's house, he leaned forward. "Would it, er, be possible for me to get a look at the information gathered on that server?"  
When Harry hesitated, he rushed on. "I know it's against protocol, but my professional curiosity has been piqued."  
For the first time since his rescue his face was animated, and Harry recognised that the request was an indication that Malcolm had perhaps not been irreparably traumatised by his ordeal. If that had been the case, he would not have wanted anything to do with the information that had landed him in trouble in the first place.  
"Why not," Harry capitulated with some relief. "Come into Thames House in a few days' time, and I'll have Calum take you through it."  
The door of the house opened and they could see Malcolm's mother framed in the light.  
"Thanks, Harry. Do you, er, want to come in for a cup of tea?"  
Harry turned around to smile at Malcolm. "No thank you. You're exhausted. Get some rest, and we'll all go for dinner soon."  
Malcolm nodded his understanding and opened the door, but before he got out, he reached forward and gripped both their shoulders, squeezing hard. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you, Ruth," he said in a wavering voice before scrambling out quickly and walking up the garden path with long strides.  
They watched him until the door closed behind him and they could no longer see him, as if they needed as long as possible to assure themselves that he was really there, and safe at home.

Harry turned to Ruth and noticed that her eyes were unnaturally bright. Tactfully, he said nothing, and gave her some time to gather herself as he busied himself with starting the car. Now that Malcolm was home, his thoughts inevitably turned towards Ruth and that dinner invitation. He got them underway and ventured carefully, "You haven't changed your mind about having dinner, have you?"  
Ruth didn't miss the vulnerable undertone to his words, and said decisively, "No."  
He took a deep, relieved breath and dared to reach for her hand. She entwined their fingers without hesitation, and they drove in companionable silence for a few minutes.  
"How about now?" he suddenly asked, causing Ruth to look at him with confusion.  
She glanced at her watch. "At two in the morning? Everything's closed."  
"I know it's not exactly The Ivy, but there's a place that does breakfast 24 hours a day," he responded, glancing at her. "Are you hungry?"  
Ruth considered, and realised that she was ravenous. And that she wanted to spend a little more time with him before going home. She squeezed his hand. "I am."  
They soon found themselves in a small diner, chatting over a full English breakfast whilst the tensions of the last few days slowly seeped away. And while neither dared say it out loud, both secretly counted it as their second official date.

- 0 -

_Two weeks later, late night  
Harry's house_

Her skin was soft under his hands, so soft. He was mesmerised by it as he ran his hands up her bare back, before trailing them downwards again. They came to rest on the small of her back as he lifted his head and sought out her mouth with his. After kissing her thoroughly, he rolled her under him and settled over her, falling into her eyes, before burying his hands in her hair and leaning down to kiss her even more ardently. His dream-self had been wrong, he thought distractedly as her hands wandered over his back and her foot rubbed along his calf. This wasn't heaven.

It was life-affirming, and wondrous, and _real_.

It was love.

_fin_


End file.
